`Tis night; the mercenary tyrants sleep As undisturb`d as Justice! but no more The wretched Slave, as on his native shore, Rests on his reedy couch: he wakes to weep! Tho` thro` the toil and anguish of the day No tear escap`d him, not one suffering groan Beneath the twisted thong, he weeps alone In bitterness; thinking that far away Tho` the gay negroes join the midnight song, Tho` merriment resounds on Niger`s shore, She whom he loves far from the chearful throng Stands sad, and gazes from her lowly door With dim grown eye, silent and woe-begone, And weeps for him who will return no more.SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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